Lockhart's Soulmate
by Lady Lanera
Summary: Lockhart has finally found the one.


**Disclaimer: **Lockhart and Rita are owned by J.K.

**A/N: **This bunny came from a conversation I had with a fellow MiMer. I felt like it was time to branch out. This is likely going to be my only time writing something like this because it really is laughably (not sure if that's a word, but the English language is full of new words like... I unfriended you). ;) Enjoy my... weird bunny?

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><p>Staring into the mirror yet again, Gilderoy Lockhart turned his head to the left then to the right and back to the left. He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth that glistened in the light. He inhaled slowly as he stared at his dreamy forget-me-not blue eyes. Oh, if he could, he'd marry himself.<p>

"Why hello there, beautiful," he purred, winking at himself in the mirror.

"Keep telling yourself that, doll," replied the mirror in a long exasperated drawl.

Lockhart's smile thinned before he whirled around. That mirror was crazy. He was beautiful. Any woman would love to spend the night with him. He then smirked, walking out of the loo with his head held up high. He'd show that mirror a thing or two.

He drew in a slow breath as he walked towards his armoire. The old 'what to wear' question bounced around his mind as his eyes passed over the massive amount of robes. The jade robes were out. The last time he had worn them, well, he ended up sore for a month. The midnight blue was also out. He had been nearly hexed down the stairs by a witch's husband. Lavender it was then. He quickly dressed in it, his award winning smile covering his entire face.

He then whirled around and walked out of his rooms. Being the Defense professor at Hogwarts was a bit of a drag. The young and eager witches, however, made up for it. Oh, how he loved how they all stared at him, hanging on his every word. Each young witch who left with his autographed photo clutched against her chest was yet another one he knew he reached.

"Ah, there you are, Miss Sin—"

"Drop dead before I hex you, Lockhart," the curly-haired witch hissed, glaring at him.

"My dear, have I offended you in some sort of way? If so, perhaps I can—"

"Leave. Me. Alone," she replied coldly, slowly raising her silver wand at him.

He flashed his smile at her before quickly hightailing it elsewhere. He didn't understand why she was such against him. He was a handsome man, and she was, well, a woman. She should be like all the other women, heaving their bosoms whenever he'd appear and begging him for their attention. Though, he had no interest whatsoever in making an enemy of her. His smile widened when he saw Madam Pince speaking with a few of the other female Hogwarts staff members. They all left as he approached.

The mirror was wrong. He was extremely beautiful. Hell, his smile had won _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile five times in a row. Just because his fellow female peers couldn't see it, well, they frankly just didn't realize what they were missing. So, he drew in a breath and smiled. Well, if the fine ladies of Hogwarts didn't realize his beauty, then he'd go elsewhere, maybe Hogsmeade. He then frowned. Madam Rosmerta had told him that if he ever returned, he'd find a piece of his cheek missing. He wasn't quite certain which she meant but he wasn't going to find out either. London it was then.

"Hello, Severus," he said, smiling broadly as he passed the dour Potions master on the stairs.

"Lockhart," responded the dark robed man, inclining his head slightly.

"Would you like to—?"

"No."

Lockhart sighed, but nodded as he continued down the stairs. He supposed he could understand that. The man was more anti-social than a, well, anything. He didn't run across anyone else. Not a single person said he looked handsome in his robes. Without a word, he slipped out the front doors and headed towards the front gates. Didn't they know who he was? He was Gilderoy Lockhart. He was famous. Then again, they were all concerned with the whole Chamber of Secrets. Personally, he found them all to be fearful idiots. Who cared about some part of the castle that had some sort of secret?

About ten minutes later and after Apparation, he inhaled deeply as he smelled the pub food. He wasn't one to move about with the common everyday witches and wizards, but they always made him feel on top of the world the way they swarmed him. He opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and donned on his best grin. He watched the heads turn towards him, the eyes watching his every move.

"Never fear, my good people," he announced, flourishing his hand dramatically, "Gilderoy Lockhart is here." He then flashed his award winning smile at them, casting a charm that made a tinging noise and flashed a gleaming light off his perfect teeth. Like a moth to the flame, the ladies flooded over to him. "Please, please, ladies, not all at once," he said, grinning as he leaned against the bar. His eyes then caught a flash off in the corner, making his head snap towards it. His breath caught in the back of his throat at the sight of the woman staring at him with an acid green quill in her hand. The swarms of women were quickly forgotten, and he slowly made his way towards her.

The witch's blond hair was in tight little ringlets. She wore jeweled spectacles that shone in the little light in the pub, drawing attention to her. She clutched her crocodile-skin handbag to her side with her two-inch crimson painted nails digging into it.

"Hello there," he said suavely, holding a hand out. "Gilderoy Lockhart." He then pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. "Now, may I ask who this enchanting woman in front of me is?"

"Rita Skeeter, reporter for the _Daily Prophet_," the woman replied smoothly, her quill trailing down the side of his face.

"Is that so?" he responded, feigning shock. "My, if I had known the _Prophet_ had such beautiful reporters, well . . ." His voice trailed off. When she laughed obnoxiously in response, he only heard lovely bells echoing around. He stared at her. She was almost as beautiful as him. He then cleared his throat. Normally, he wasn't one to move so fast, but he knew that he just had to be with her once . . . maybe twice, hell maybe forever. "Would you like a private interview for your paper, Miss Skeeter?"

"About . . . ?" she asked with her familiar fake saccharine smile.

"Well, I currently teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh," the witch purred, her eyes lighting up instantly. "You teach the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Yes," Lockhart answered, his smile faltering slightly. "He reminds me a bit of myself. I too know the sting of pain from loved ones deaths." He then felt her grab a hold of his robes, yanking him upstairs away from all the audience. He just barely held back his boyish giggle.

She shoved him into the nearest room available and was on him instantly, banishing their clothes. He couldn't believe it. She tasted like . . . cherry chapstick—oh, how he loved Muggle women and their chapstick. He sucked on her bottom lip, inhaling sharply when he felt the feathery end of a quill trail down his chest. She was intoxicating. He wanted more . . . and promptly got more too. This time, he let out his little boyish giggle. He was getting lucky today.

_Take that all you haters at Hogwarts. She finds me attractive . . . _He then gasped as the quill tickled his inner thigh. _And she's adventurous too, ooh, I like._

With a groan, he woke up several hours later. He lifted his head up, only to narrow his eyes on the note beside him on the pillow. He frowned, reading it. That little minx had shagged him and run off. He was Gilderoy Lockhart. He wasn't a . . . a . . . one-night stand type of man. He then rolled out of bed slowly, groaning more as his injuries were aggravated. His back felt as if someone had clawed him, which was probably really likely considering the nails he saw on her.

He magicked his clothes on and walked towards the complimentary parchment and quill, writing a short reply to her. To be in good with the press was very important to him, especially since he didn't even remember if he was good or not. He wiped at his brow, frowning. He felt so groggy this morning as if he had been drugged or something. However, he brushed the thought off.

Could it be? Could Gilderoy Lockhart be in-in love? He glanced at himself in the vanity mirror, sighing softly. His robes were torn in various spots, showing off the love bites to his neck. Oh, he needed to see this witch again, her and her quill.

"Dearest Rita," he began, writing as he spoke aloud. "We didn't finish our interview last night. I have more to say, loads more." Oh, how he hoped she understood his meaning. He could imagine their children growing up, beautiful and charming just as he was. She'd make a beautiful mother. He just knew it. "I await your owl to know when we may continue our . . . interview." He signed his name with a flourish before repairing his robes and applying a glamour on the marks. He then walked out of the room and headed downstairs. "My dear chap, do you by chance have an owl?" The pub owner glanced at him before pointing towards the stands. "Excellent, always knew I could count on the fine Leaky Cauldron establishment. I'll likely bring about some business I'd imagine for you, some respectable people I mean." He then headed towards the owls, speaking softly to one. "Deliver it to the lovely Rita Skeeter please." The owl made a sort of hacking noise before it flew out the opened window with the note attached to its feet.

"Better get up to Hogwarts, shouldn't you, Lockhart? Heard they've been having some trouble up there," the pub owner stated. "I thought that you'd be all for using that for your next book."

"Yes, yes, well," Lockhart said, smiling nervously. "Well, if you forgive me, I'm off to the castle. Thank you, my good man." Without another word, he Apparated from the Leaky Cauldron to the front gates of Hogwarts. He sighed heavily when he saw the looming castle in front of him. Back to the drag again. Seriously, these people needed to liven up more. It was a bit like being in Azkaban. They, his coworkers, sucked the fun out of it, Snape being the main Dementor.

Walking into the entrance hall a moment later, he stopped when he heard McGonagall's voice booming through the halls.

"_All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please._"

He groaned instantly. He had better things to do then to listen to them and their seriousness. He was Gilderoy Lockhart. He was the life of the party, and this place was seriously hurting his image. It was boring with the exception of the Chambers of Secrets stuff. Walking as slowly as he could, he headed towards the staffroom. Why couldn't she just have stayed with him? He was Gilderoy Lockhart. Didn't she understand that? Why had she left him? He then smiled when he remembered her laugh and look of hunger in her eyes for him. Oh, could life get any better?

He threw open the door dramatically, grinning as he recalled their night of fiery passion imagining the parts that were blurry. He had to be good. She'd likely jump at the chance to be with him again for their 'private interview.'

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?" he stated, glancing around at them. He couldn't wait until then. Rita Skeeter and he would be unstoppable . . .

**A/N: **Thanks for reading.


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